


Gravel

by edensgay (buckybarfs)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, so you better love it too, this is one of the funniest things i had ever written, tumblr loved it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarfs/pseuds/edensgay
Summary: The Deputy has liberated Seed ranch and all is well, until John Seed comes back. What ensues can only be compared to a couple exchanging things after a really bad breakup.





	Gravel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all this is next up in my things to upload from tumblr. It got a lot of love on there so I'm hoping you guys will like it too!

The Deputy is in a deep slumber curled up in a  plush bed when the tapping starts. They’d been a heavy sleeper before coming to Hope County, now every little sound woke them. Which is why when the tapping grows more insistent they shroud themselves in blankets pretend it’s not happening.  
  
In Rooks mind it’s probably some dumb insistent bird trying to fight its own reflection. A dim light post outside illuminates the room, which is fucking stupid because it’s so hard for Rook to sleep without complete darkness.   
  
The tapping gets louder and Rook finally reaches their breaking point, they toss the blankets off of themselves; or rather attempt to. Instead falling into a heap on the floor because that goddamn top sheet curls around their ankle like a fucking snake.   
  
With more aggression than is necessary, or is even logical, Rook stomps to the window and flings the curtains open. Their hands fumble to find the latch and shove the window up. “Fuck you, you stupid bird!” They whisper yell into the night.  
  
There is no bird and the Deputy is instead met with a hail of gravel pummeling their face.  
  
Rook stumbles backwards, tripping over the slippery pile of blankets and falling into the sturdy pine bedside table, their head thunking loudly against it. They know they’re going to have a hell of a bruise on their ass because of course the plush rug-that felt so nice against their sore feet earlier- isn’t soft enough to stop the hardwood flooring from knocking the wind out of them.  
  
“ _What the fuck?? What the fuck?_ ” They whisper to themselves as they claw at their face and rub their eyes in an attempt to stop the stinging. Their hands are wet with a dark substance as the dripping wound on their forehead makes its presence known. Stupid fucking end table probably gave them a concussion. They’re gonna take it outside tomorrow and burn it with Sharky.  
  
What kind of fucking bird throws rocks? What the fuck kind of place is this? Did John have to deal with this shit, too?  
  
Then they hear the voice.  
  
“Ah, so nice of you to finally wake up.”   
  
It’s John Fucking Seed.  
  
_John Fucking Seed_  had thrown a handful of gravel into their face.  
  
_John Fucking Seed_  tapped on their window and signed his own death warrant because nobody wakes up the Deputy when they’re getting their first good sleep in weeks and lives.  
  
Rook stumbles to their feet, leaning on the table that had beaten the shit out of them not a minute earlier. They wobble their way to the window and poke their head back out, afraid of more rocks meeting their face. But they have to know, they have to be certain that it’s John Seed that’s standing under the window and not some half asleep concoction their exhausted brain dreamt up.  
  
It is in fact John Seed.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rook gasps out, because they were just woken up and assaulted not two minutes later. Maybe it wasn’t the most eloquent way to go about it but they can’t come up with anything else.   
  
He lets out an exaggerated sigh as he squints up the window. “You were ignoring me.”   
  
John Seed had went from throwing singular rocks at the window to throwing a fistful because the Deputy was ignoring him. John Seed was the human equivalent of a cat who knocked things over when their owner was too busy to pet them.   
  
John Seeds filthy paws had knocked the metaphorical water cup off the table and the Deputy was seeing red; and not just because the damage to their retinas.  
  
“So, you decide to fucking  _blind_  me?”   
  
He shrugs and Rook finds themselves stifling a scream.  
  
“Let me in.” He responds.  
  
Rook scoffs at that. “Yeah, sure thing, bud.” They go to close the window only to pause when they hear John telling them to wait.  
  
“I am simply here to retrieve my belongings. Besides, it’s  _my_  house.”   
  
Rooks eyes narrow but the sooner they let John get what he wants the sooner he will leave. They spend a minute weighing the pros and cons of letting John back into his ranch.  
  
Pros: John will leave sooner and the poor tired Dep can finally get some fucking shut-eye.  
  
Cons: John could kill everyone here. John could torture the poor tired Dep. John could burn the place to the ground in a ‘if I can’t have it nobody can’ fit. John could have an entire fucking army waiting down the street for his signal.  
  
“I’ll just toss ‘em down to you. What do you need?” Rook finally answers, because that’s the easiest solution they can come up with.  
  
John lets out a horrified shriek. “If a single one of my items touches the ground your little friend will not live to see another day.”   
  
The Deputy amuses themselves thinking of how upset the youngest Seed would be if they emptied his closet and threw his silk shirts into the mud. But they won’t risk Hudson, not over some fucking shirts. No matter how tempting it is to try to make John Seed cry from frustration.  
  
“Fine. Climb on up.” Rooks not sure how that would work but it’s better than the alternative.  
  
John Seed makes an incredulous noise and it becomes clear to Rook that he hasn’t thought this out. That for some reason he thought he would walk right back into his old home, pack a bag and walk right back out without a problem. As if he hadn’t tortured dozens of people who were friends of the people now inhabiting his home.  
  
“Well, damn, John, you’re not just gonna walk right through the front door.”  
  
He takes a deep breath, presumably to quell the rage he’s so well-known for, before replying. “Why not?”  
  
Is he fucking serious?  
  
“Because, there’s fucking people sleeping down there and guards fucking everywhere. I don’t know how you managed to throw rocks at my window for almost ten minutes without someone noticing.” They let out a huff of air as they finish schooling John in why he was a complete dumbass.

However, they know in a way that they roasted themselves and the resistance because, really? Why hadn’t anyone noticed John throwing rocks at their window like a lovesick teenager?  
  
Rook takes a moment to celebrate the dumbfounded expression on John’s face because they know it’ll only last a second.  
  
They see his expression shift and they know it’s time to backtrack. “You’re not killing anyone.” They hiss down at him.  
  
“How do you expect me to get up there?” He sounds exhausted, as if Rook is a three-year old he’s trying to teach long division to. When in reality the Deputy had only forbid him from killing people, as if that was a bad thing. For some reason killing people was - _apparently_ \- the only logical option.  
  
“Climb.”   
  
“There’s nothing for me to climb on, Deputy.” He says it like it’s a naughty word, as if being a Deputy is a crime against nature or something.  
  
“You don’t have a rope ladder or anything?” The words escape Rook’s mouth before they have a chance to realize what a dumb question it was.  
  
“ _Now, why would I have a rope ladder?_ ” John snarks, crossing his arms as he proceeds to make the Deputy feel two feet tall.  
  
After a silent moment of glaring at each other Rook folds first. “Ugh,  _fine_.” The Deputy rubs their eyes with the palms of their hands as they let out a low groan. They stumble over to where their bag sits and rummage through it, searching for something - _anything_ \- that could help the situation.  
  
They come back to the window with their trusty grappling hook and a pistol in the pocket of the hoodie they stole. “Here.” They say before unceremoniously hooking it to the window sill and dropping the rope down.   
  
John climbs the rope and is in the room in less than thirty seconds to Rooks surprise, they’re surprised because it’s kind of hot. They take a minute to reevaluate their life choices as that particular thought crosses their mind.  
  
“Finally.” He murmurs as he heads towards his bathroom without so much as a thank you.  
  
“You’re welcome.” The deputy grumbles as they sit back on the bed.  
  
John exits the bathroom holding a first aid kit and to the Deps surprise he sits on the bed beside them and opens it.   
  
“What’re you-” Rook starts to ask but is quickly silenced by the glare John sends them.  
  
The Deputy gapes wordlessly as John as he swipes an antiseptic wipe over the still oozing cut on their forehead. A shiver escapes them as his knuckles brush across their face while he applies a butterfly bandage to the small cut.   
  
“Not a word, Deputy.”   
  
Rooks eyes wander over him and notice his neck is devoid of the key he always wears. Of course he wouldn’t have it on him, he needed something to hold over their head so they wouldn’t kill him.  
  
“I’m not stupid.” He says in a low voice as he gets up from the bed and heads towards the closet.  
  
Rook opens and closes their mouth before deciding the best thing to say is nothing at all.   
  
The Deputy follows him into the closet, watching as John meticulously folds his expensive clothes -stupid- and sets them in a duffel bag. They can’t help but snicker at the sight of John The Fucking Baptist doing something so domestic. Rooks too tired to acknowledge the warning glance that John throws their way, instead continuing to giggle.  
  
To their surprise, John doesn’t threaten them. Clearly, he understands that he’s at a distinct disadvantage here, as Rook has removed the pistol from their pocket and is holding it by their side while they watch him from the doorway.  
  
“Alright.” He says as he puts his last vest in the bag, Rook letting out another giggle because, honestly. A  _vest_?  
  
“Now, I’ll be needing the jacket that you stole and I’ll be on my way.” He gives the Deputy a once over, tilting his head and holding out his hand as he not so patiently waits.  
  
“What?” Rook replies, temporarily forgetting that the hoodie they’re wearing is one they’d stolen from Johns closet.   
  
“ _My_  jacket.” He grinds out, people call John many things but patient has never been one of them.  
  
The Deputy is suddenly aware that they’re very much naked under the hoodie, the only other clothing they’re wearing is a pair of worn underwear. “No fucking way, John. Finders keepers.”   
  
“Don’t make me cut it off of you.” He pulls a knife from God knows where, leaving Rook to wonder if John Seed just keeps an endless stream of sharp weapons up his ass for safe keeping.  
  
The thought causes laughter to bubble behind their lips, but they know now isn’t the time to laugh because somehow when John Seed brings a knife to a gun fight he wins.   
  
Rook stubbornly shakes their head, wrapping their empty hand around their waist as they snuggle deeper into the jacket. Their hand squeezes the gun a bit tighter, reminding themselves that they can shoot John at any time, that they should be in control of the situation.

“I was nice enough to let you get the rest of your stuff but I’m keeping this. It’s comfy.” Rook says, frowning at him like a petulant child.   
  
“You’ve stolen  _my_  home,  _my_  bedroom, and now  _my_  jacket? One might think you have a crush on me, Deputy.”   
  
Rooks cheeks seemingly catch on fire as they take a step back, “Fuck off.” By not denying it they’ve fessed up to it and John doesn’t miss that.  
  
Rook immediately backtracks, but it’s too late. John caught it. “God, everything is ‘ _my’_  with you. Isn’t there something in the bible about sharing?”

His eyes light up as he steps towards Rook, his icy eyes have a predatory gleam as he gleefully watches Rook scurry away from him. Even the Deputys words aren’t enough to deter him, he’s a man on a mission.

“Your  _greed_  has really over come you, ya know, John? Can’t even share a fuckin’  _hoodie_.” Rook says as they continue to backtrack, literally and figuratively.

The Deputy loudly trips over the same fucking blankets, effectively ruining the moment. They make a mental note to burn the blankets along with the bedside table.

The thud of their ass once again slamming into the floor resonates throughout the ranch. Waking up everyone and their fucking mothers. The gun falls out of their hand and clatters to the ground, skittering across the floor until it’s completely out of reach.

For a minute they fear John will go for it but he surprises them by ignoring the weapon. The gleam in his eye is gone and is instead replaced with a cautionary look, whatever he’d been planning he’d talked himself out of.  
  
“Could you be any louder?” John huffs out as he steps towards the Deputy, with every intention of helping them up.  
  
That is until the door bangs open, revealing a half-naked Sharky and a murderous looking Jess.   
  
Sharky has wild bed head and is in ugly orange camo pajama pants where as Jess is in a t-shirt and leggings: looking like she’d run to the corner store instead of having just jumped out of bed.  
  
Jess stands behind Sharky with her bow drawn, ready to murder whoever is hurting her friend.  
  
Rook knows it looks bad,  _fuck does it look bad_. They’re on the floor with their gun three feet away from them and John is standing over them holding a fucking knife.   
  
“Get away from  _our_  Deputy!” Sharky wails as he flings himself at the youngest Seed. The two hit the floor as Sharky attempts to wrastle the knife from Johns hand.

Rook doesn’t even have a chance to process the ‘ _Our Deputy_ ’ part, too busy being distracted by the two men suddenly fighting. But if they had time to process it they would have  _aw_ ’ed, because that was fucking cute.

Rook scrambles towards the two, half crawling half dragging themself as they try to break up the fight. Sharky has his hands around Johns throat and John is swinging is knife around trying to get a good swipe on Sharky.  
  
They’re going to kill each other all because of a stupid jacket with a stupid fucking airplane on it.  
  
“Fuck! Sharky! Get off him! It’s  _fine_!  _This is fine_!” As Rook shouts that everything is fine they realize that everything is not fine. They’d jumped on Sharky’s back in an attempt to pull him off of John but they’d completely misjudged it and were now clinging to Sharky- hanging off his side like a drunk who refused to fall off a mechanical bull.  
  
The situation is completely fucked and John Seed is about to get murdered over a  _fucking hoodie_.  
  
They should let it happen, but John doesn’t have the key and they’re not going to risk Hudson like that. When they kill John Seed it’ll be on their own terms and it’ll definitely be a hell of a lot more dignified than asphyxiation by a half asleep Boshaw.   
  
Sharky shakes them off and they helplessly fall to the floor, groaning as their head snaps against the wood flooring- they can feel their brain slush inside of their skull. If they didn’t have a concussion before they definitely do now.  
  
“He was trying to  _kill you_!” Sharky argues, risking a glance at his friend before resuming the strangling.  
  
Johns turning a sick shade now, his knife long forgotten as he tries to scratch Sharky’s hands off his neck.  
  
“He was cleaning out his closet!” Rook shouts, rolling over and kicking their friend in the side.  
  
Sharky collapses on top of John with a loud groan. The last bit of air in Johns lungs escapes in a gasp as Sharky flops on top of him. He’s too busy greedily gulping in air to shove the man off of him.  
  
“It looked like he was tryin’ to kill you.” Jess said from the doorway.  
  
Rook flopsonto their back, spread eagle on the ground as they try to stop the spots dancing in their vision. They’d hit their head way too many times tonight, there was almost no chance they didn’t have a concussion. Which meant they couldn’t sleep which had been all they’d wanted to do.  
  
Through the open door they can see the lights downstairs turning on and confused groans are starting to make their way upstairs. Soon a small crowd has gathered behind Jess, who still hasn’t put her bow down.  
  
The situation now looks even more fucked, a half-naked Sharky lies on top of a panting John while a half-naked Deputy lies on the ground beside them.   
  
Sharky scrambles off of John, not taking his eyes off of him as he grabs the gun and the knife before he moves to help the Deputy up.   
  
John clambers to his feet, glaring at Jess who bares her teeth at him in response.   
  
“Time to leave, John.” Rook mumbles, as they lean into Sharky.  
  
Their pyromaniac friend presses the gun into their hand, as if encouraging them to make John leave this plane of  _existence_.  
  
“Fine. Give me  _my_  jacket back and I’ll be on my way.” He replies, as he steps towards his bag taking measured steps; he kept his head high as he pretended he’s somehow in control of the situation.  
  
As if Jess hasn’t been following his motions with an arrow pointed at him that’s itching to bury itself between his eyes. As if there isn’t a small crowd of armed people who would all like to see him in the ground that are blocking one of his exits.  
  
“Yer in no place to be making demands.” Jess growls, pulling her arrow taught as she narrows her eyes at the man.  
  
“Fucking Christ give it up, John. It’s mine now. Cut your losses and leave while you still have legs.” Why they threatened Johns legs? Only because if they didn’t get to fall asleep in the next thirty minutes they were going to kneecap him.  
  
“It’s not yours. It’s my jacket that you stole.” He grounds out, glaring at the Deputy as if he has any moral high ground here.  
  
“Tell me why we ain’t killing him?” Jess asks.  
  
“Because if I’m not back to my bunker by morning the Deputy’s little friend is dead.” John hisses, giving Jess a sickly sweet smile.  
  
“We can still kill him and take his key.” Jess argues, continuing to speak as if John isn’t there.  
  
John clenches his jaw, he’s not keen on people ignoring him he’d proved that earlier. Fuck, he proved that every time his dramatic ass made a broadcast.  
  
“You honestly believe I’d go into enemy territory with the one thing I know the Deputy needs?”   
  
“What the Deputy needs is your head on a fuckin’ platter.” The archer grumbles as she sends Rook a look that is like that of a kicked puppy.  
  
As if not allowing Jess murder John in cold blood is somehow the worst thing they could do.

Why are they surrounded by people who think  _not murdering someone_  is somehow a bad thing? Oh, right, because they tried to arrest Joseph Seed because when bad shit happened they just couldn’t walk away.

_Stupid fucking moral compass._

Rook groans and runs their empty hand down their face. “John, you’re leaving  _now_.”  They walk over to him and push their hand against his shoulder, shoving him towards the door.  
  
“Fine.” He reaches down and grabs the strap of his bag, causing the sound of everyone in the area turning the safety off to echo through the ranch.   
  
Rook leads him down the stairs, sure to keep their finger by the trigger on the off-chance that he makes a stupid decision. The two make it to the door without a hitch, thankfully.  
  
John turns to the Deputy and they can tell he has some long-winded speech prepared, they can see it glittering in his eyes. Instead of waiting around for it they open the door and unceremoniously shove him outside, slamming it behind him and turning the locks because honestly, nobody has time for that shit.  
  
Without a word they stomp back upstairs and push through the crowd that’s begun to dissipate.   
  
It’s near dawn now, the analog clock beside the bed reading 4:37AM. Rook knows Sharky is going to knock out the second his head hits his pillow again but Jess is going to be up for the day.   
  
“Wake me up in two hours.” Rook says to Jess as they flop down on the bed. They wanted to sleep for longer - _they wanted to sleep for an entire fucking day_ \- but if they did have a concussion they had to wake up in two hours.  
  
Jess nods before turning on her heel and heading back to the room she’s claimed.  
  
Sharky lingers for a minute, watching as Rook buries their face into the pillow and screams. “That was like watchin’ a bad breakup.” He comments, hearing the Deputy scream again before telling him to go back to bed.  
  
As soon as Rook hears the door close behind Sharky they scream into the pillow again, their head throbbing as they do so.  
  
Their headache only gets worse when they hear John yelling from outside.  
  
With a whine they get up and head towards the window. “What the fuck do you want now, John? Did you forget your  _Gucci flip flops_  or something?” Because in their current state that seems like a sick burn.

‘ _I Just Fucked Your Bitch In Some Gucci Flip Flops!_ ’ Rooks brain supplied uselessly. It seemed like a John thing, it wouldn’t surprise them if he did have Gucci flip flops. ‘ _Thank you, Brain, that was really helpful._ ’  
  
“I’m curious, are you wearing anything under  _my_  jacket?” He asks slyly.  
  
Rook ducks back into the room and grabs the first thing they see off the bedside table. Without much thought they lean out the window and chuck the Book of Joseph right at Johns head, causing the man to let out a squawk as he dodges it. They would have much preferred to throw a Gucci flip flop at his head but settled for the book.  
  
“Go to hell,  _John Seed!_ ” The Deputy yells after him as he takes off down the driveway laughing the entire time.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is the air that I breathe, please don't let me suffocate.


End file.
